Jackson

I jumped before I thought. Came around the corner, seen one brother slug her, the other pull his blade. Seen her head snap back, hit hard against the wall. Seen her knife slide away, outta reach, glistening like a tease under the sticky green dumpster. I seen her knees buckle, high heel boots crumple, pink tube top doubling over a black vinyl miniskirt. I knew right away who it was. Yeah, I been watching that one real close. Tough skinny black girl. Small, wiry, nothin’ extra, nothin’ wasted. Baby dreads sneaking all wild outta her cap, eyes sparking flint, a mouth could sneer your ass clear outta town or jump you so hard with a smile you forgot you had business to attend to. And that knife. Fancy pearl black handle with a mean six-inch blade. She was the quickest thing I’d ever seen with a knife that size. Some said she cut her pimp’s ear off in a fight. Some said she’d Bobbitted the guy. Some said she was the one that sliced up the behind of the trick what tried to rape me my first night working in this damn town.

So, I knew better, but when I seen those punks forcing her back down the alley, her without her knife and all, I couldn’t just do nothin’. So I snuck around beside the dumpster, grabbed her knife, picked up a brick, hurled it at the head of the guy who slugged her, and said something stupid like, “Hey, motherfuckers, what y’all say we make this fight a little more fair?” Well, I never seen a fight yet come down like they do in the movies, but I did manage to split open the guy’s head with the brick and get that girl back her knife before something slammed across my face and I hit the pavement. When I woke up, the guys were gone, my nostrils were caked with blood and that girl was leaning over me, holding her fancy-ass knife hard against my throat.

“Well, I’m glad you finally decided to wake your sorry self up, white girl, ‘cause I got some things to say to you ’bout messing round where you don’t belong, messing in other people’s business where you got no right to be.”

I squinted up at her. “Damn,” I muttered. “You’re welcome.”

My head hurt so bad I thought, hell, she might as well just cut if off right now and put it in that dumpster. My tongue rolled thickly around each tooth, pushing, taking inventory.

“Where’d you learn to talk so fast?” I asked.

“Shut up.” She pushed the knife up under my chin. “What you think you’re doing coming round here, anyway, bitch? Dragging your sorry white ass where it don’t belong, riding in here like some goddamn honkey-ass cowgirl social worker, getting in the way of my personal affairs.”

“Personal affairs?” I had to laugh. “Those motherfuckers were gonna do you, girl.”

“Yeah, and what you think they gonna do to me now? Besides, I had it under control.” She looked away, picking at her thumbnail with her knife.

“Yeah. Well, darlin’, I’d hate to be around when you don’t got it under control,” I said. I tried not to grin and noticed her mouth fighting it, too, so I sat up real slow and easy and reached out my hand. “My name’s Taylor,” I said. “I’m kinda new in town.”

“I know who you are,” she said, putting down her knife to shake my hand. “Who do you think it was saved your sorry white ass from that motherfuckin’ trick last month?”

“Damn, I knew that was you what cut that fool up so bad. I’d say he’s the one with the truly sorry white ass, though,” I laughed.

She smiled. “Yeah, well, let’s just say I gave him a little something to think about. Like every time he tries to sit down, for example. Or take something he ain’t paid for.”

We stayed for a few more moments, laughing at the image of the john explaining his sliced-up behind to his doctor, his wife. Then I moved to get up. “Well, I better be going,” I said.

My nose was starting to bleed again. I had no idea where I was gonna sleep that night. I figured by now all the good boxes would be taken out behind Montgomery Wards.

She looked away quick. “Hey, bitch. I’m serious about not wanting to see your white butt around this part of town again,” she said, her voice all tough and tight.

“Yeah, whatever.” I felt too tired to argue anymore and started walking away.

“But that don’t mean I might not be wanting to see it in some other part of town,” she called out, pausing. “If you know what I mean.”

I turned around to see her standing there grinning at me under the streetlight, looking way too fine for someone who just got beat up. “I think I just might,” I smiled, feeling my stomach flip over, hit down by my boots, and bounce back up around my chest again.

“Good,” she said. “My name’s Jackson.”